The Eyes Have It
by TheWitch'sCat
Summary: A deeper look into the flings of Tommy...the kind of angsty romance I'm addicted to...
1. Chapter 1

**So, I'm back, so to speak. I've had some life stuff that has caused me to have to take a break, but I still have much to write. I know I have works to finish, but I needed something to get things flowing again.**

**I am currently working Jersey Boys, and I have this ability to see a character and find something a lot deeper than just what's on the surface. Maybe I think too much, but I love to give people backstory. So...here's this.**

**For those of you who are not familiar, Jersey Boys is the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, an incredibly successful group from the sixties. If you don't know what they wrote, look up "Oh what a night". I guarantee you've heard it. Their story is full of drama and tension and romance and everything else, and the character of Tommy DeVito fascinates me. He never settles down, constantly gets in trouble and causes problems, and yet has this intense loyalty. And I love nothing more than to crack the facade of even the hardest character. So, here goes. I hope this is good fun, and it may have a part two, possibly. Also, although Jersey Boys is based on real people, I prefer to write from the premise of the fictionalized characters that you see in the show. **

**Let me know what you think, and I promise to continue the stuff I've left hanging.**

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><p><strong>The Eyes Have It<strong>

She'd promised herself things would be different, this time. When he'd walked into the casino surrounded by an ever-growing posse of managers, staff, security and fans, she hadn't felt anything but the same resentment she'd been nursing for nearly a year now. And she was glad. She was relieved. She wanted it to finally be over. Her head had known for some time that it was a careless and damaging relationship, but she wanted her heart to agree. So, when she immediately wanted to slap him hard across his smiling face, she was relieved. Then, he looked at her.

Slipping away from the flashbulbs while the attention was on Frankie, he crossed the room to where she stood, carrying a tray that she'd been loading with empty glasses. Sliding a twenty across the smooth table top, he said, "How much for a good time, Maggie DeGrasso?"

It had become something of a joke between them, for him to present the money and proposition her. He'd been doing it for years now, each time he came into town. Although, Maggie remembered, the first time she was quite sure he'd been serious about buying her. She'd known what she was to him. She wasn't naïve or inexperienced, herself. Legal or not, taking money from the wealthy men who frequented the casino in exchange for a night in their suite was just padding her tip money, she'd always thought. She was wanted by the biggest of the big shots. The high rollers. She refused to compare herself to the raggedy girls who stood on the corners a few streets over, baring their breasts to oncoming traffic. She was no cheap call girl. At least, that's what she'd always believed. Now, in this moment, however, she'd never felt more dirty.

Maggie stared at the money, and then looked up into his face.

_Tommy._

He was the same, mostly. His dark hair was slicked back, meticulously combed and parted. His jaw line was strong, his smile more a smirk. The straight line of his nose made him ruggedly handsome. It was his eyes that always stopped her, though. Today, Maggie knew she was done for when she met his eyes. They were strangely, piercingly blue for someone who was otherwise so very Italian. With everything else about him being so crisp, expensive, and larger than life, it was his eyes that made him human.

"So, midnight? My usual room?" Tommy widened his grin, showing his faint laugh lines.

Against everything her brain was telling her, Maggie nodded.

Tommy gave her a wink and waltzed away to rejoin his group of adoring fans and nagging managers. Posing for a picture, he wrapped his arms around two attractive girls and planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. Maggie looked down at the table, saw the twenty again, and felt like she'd been punched in the stomach.

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><p>For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Maggie warred with herself. She'd been so sure this would never happen to her. She had made her own way in life, starting the day she'd turned eighteen and her drunken mother had kicked her out onto the streets of Reno. Maggie had never looked back. She aimed her sights towards Las Vegas and had scorned the notion of ever settling down. She'd seen what married life had done to her parents. She was watching it do the same thing to her sister.<p>

Maggie considered herself lucky. She could make more a night in tips than a full-time seamstress could make in a week. While most women were having babies and ironing their husband's shirts every morning, she was working tables at one of the classiest casinos in Las Vegas. Maggie was also a part-time singer and dancer. She was on stage about four nights a week, smiling her wide, ruby grin, her chestnut curls upswept in combs glittering with rhinestones. It was the dream life, she'd always thought. There were no attachments, nothing tying her to anyone or anything. She was free to see who she pleased, to stay out till dawn broke and sleep the day away. She needed no one, because she had everyone. Or so she thought.

The concert ran late that night, and the packed house cheered and whistled for the four young men on stage. They were superstars, international recording artists, and all devastatingly handsome. They were the Four Seasons, as the crowd saw them. Frankie, Bob, Nick, and Tommy. They were brilliant, talented musicians with full bank accounts and enough star power to charm the knickers off a nun.

Maggie watched the crowd watching them. She scanned the wives, sans husbands, sipping cocktails and eyeing the boys like prey to be devoured. She looked at the young couples, star struck and smitten with both the performers and each other. She saw what she knew Tommy saw, an endless sea of women, his for the taking. They could each have almost anyone they wanted, especially Tommy. And for some reason, that reality now made Maggie want to vomit.

Gritting her teeth together, she decided she wouldn't go to his room tonight. She didn't have to. She didn't owe him anything, and he couldn't very well start screaming that he'd paid for her. That was a practice that might be overlooked, but was never defended or even acknowledged. So she simply wouldn't go. It was becoming too complicated, she decided. It was better to cut it off.

_Let him be angry. Let him be alone. I don't owe him anything._

Maggie repeated those things over and over to herself as she cleared tables and brought fresh drinks. She even stayed late, after the patrons had dispersed and the stage was quiet. She took her time stacking glasses and wiping tables. She was doing more than was required, she knew. She was paid to please the male patrons, to bend over just a little too far when serving their drinks, not wash glasses. Still, Maggie lingered.

And she nearly succeeded in avoiding him. She thought he would have given up on her, when a voice in the quiet theater startled her.

"Hey."

He was standing in the corner by the stage, all in shadows. He had his arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow quirked upward. Maggie froze, towel in hand, and swallowed hard.

_Turn around. Walk away. Tell him you're through with this. Leave him here. You know he's left dozens of women the same way. Walk away._

Instead, she stuttered, "I was just…"

Stepping from the shadows, Tommy smiled. He turned to leave, and gestured for her to follow.

And Maggie did. Like a moth to a deadly flame, like a deer drawn toward the lights of its oncoming slaughter, like a fairytale princess lured by a poisoned apple or a cursed spinning wheel, she went.

She followed him through the darkened hallways that wound behind the stage, knowing the back way up to the exclusive suites very well. She caught the scent of him as he led the way, something between musky cologne, cigarettes and the sweat from a lengthy performance. Maggie took a deep breath, breathing it in, feeling her stomach flutter.

_But you've always been a little star-struck by the caliber of people that come here. There have been so many actors and singers. They've always captivated you. That's why you love this. He is no different._

Maggie continued to try to convince herself that all the men made her knees weak like this, that there was always this spark that threatened to burst into flame between them.

When they reached the door of suite 325, Tommy's room of choice, he quickly worked the lock and swung the door open. When the door clicked shut behind her, Maggie stood there, trying to look casual.

Tommy started to pour a drink but Maggie stopped him by saying, "For twenty bucks, I'm not sure we have time to drink."

Tommy set the decanter down, meeting her eyes with a smirk, and said, "So we're past the pleasantries, then?"

His Jersey accent was thick and undiluted, even after years of criss-crossing the country.

Keeping up the front, she shrugged, "You've been showing up for four years now."

Trying to hide her rapidly beating heart and her trembling hands, Maggie crossed the room to him. Seizing him by his expensive tie, she pulled him toward the lavishly dressed bed. Shoving the silken quilts and heavy pillows away, she laid herself out on the soft sheets.

Tommy looked at her hungrily, and Maggie knew she was a carnal fantasy come to life. Her skin was ivory and without blemish. Her breasts filled out her dress just a little more than they should. She wasn't particularly tall, but her legs were long and shapely. Maggie pouted at him, knowing she was beautiful, and pulled the clips from her hair.

Shaking it out, she said, "Get to it then. I don't have all night."

Yet the moment he touched her, she wished she had eternity.

Tommy loosened his tie and cast it away as he finally kissed her. He worked his tongue into her mouth, gently yet urgently. Then he turned his mouth on her neck and her breasts, pulling the dress away.

Sex was always fun. Sometimes it might be more tedious than others, but Maggie always enjoyed herself. She refused to ever be a victim, feeling that if someone was getting something from her, she might as well get something in return. She knew herself, knew what she liked. Yet here, in this warm, aching moment, she was shocked by the sheer hunger she felt. She wanted him. She prayed he couldn't see the desperation in her eyes as she ripped clothing away from both their bodies. She was even more forward than usual, trying to cover how very smitten she was.

Tommy relished it and, as usual, went to take her without bothering to remove his trousers. Maggie stopped him, though. Rolling him over and pinning him in what she hoped he saw as merely a performance intended to please him, she then stripped him of his clothes. Impatient and entirely aroused by her aggressiveness, he then laid her back on the bed and took her.

As skin slid against skin and breath mixed with breath, Maggie savored his body. They were one on one, one in one, together. She closed her eyes and took in his scent again, running her fingers through his thick hair. She let herself go, feeling captive and free, hungry and full. She went with him over the precipice of pleasure and had to close her eyes. She bit her lip, not because he was opposed to her making a little noise, but because she was afraid of what she might say.

After several long, breathy moments, Maggie felt him start to pull away. Before she could catch herself, she pulled him back against her. Winding her legs around and through his, she savored the moist heat between them. She savored his skin on hers, from chest to toes. She looked up at him, watching his chest rise and fall from the effort. Then she looked into his face, studying every angle, every line and every scar. She met his blue eyes and, without thinking, pulled him into her lips. She kissed him long and slow, wanting not to excite him but to know him. When they finally separated, he seemed to sense something was off. He didn't say it, though, stating instead, "Your eyes…they're green."

It was a statement. He was trying to cut the awkward tension. Tommy didn't care what color her eyes were. She knew that. Still, those four words sent her over the edge. Her breath caught as she stared up at him. She was wrapped in him, covered in the scent of him and filled with him, and her heart was as naked as her flesh.

Wrapping her arms tighter around his shoulders, she said very softly, "I love you."

Tommy stared at her for a moment as though he had no idea what she'd said, as though she'd spoken a different language. Then, when the words finally registered, Maggie saw the panic. He pulled away from her and quickly started throwing his clothes back on. Maggie sat up, pulling the quilt around herself, terrified.

"You're not in love with me," he stated flatly, "You're just drunk. This is not a 'love' situation, here."

Maggie felt her heart break. She very softly whispered, "Why not?"

"Because Tommy DeVito doesn't fall in love," he threw out harshly.

Still clutching the quilt, Maggie slid from the bed and stood up, facing him. She demanded, "And why not? Why is that so impossible?"

"Look," he threw back, straightening his shirt, "I've got a million of you out there, in every city across this country. Why would I want just you, when I can have you, and everyone else?"

Maggie felt tears prick her eyes, "Maybe that's true. Maybe I'm crazy. I never wanted to fall in love, either. I've never said that before. But I meant it. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Tommy raked his hand through his hair and said, "What do you want from me? I'm leaving tomorrow and who knows when I'll be back. It makes no sense. You're not in love, sweetheart."

Suddenly wounded, Maggie said, "Don't call me sweetheart."

Tommy met her eyes, and she couldn't read his expression.

Maggie stood up slowly and crossed to him, dropping the quilt. She stepped close enough to feel the heat between them again, to look in his tumultuous eyes, and said, "Tell me you don't feel something."

Their eyes were locked for a moment, and then Tommy tore himself away, the tension obvious. He focused intently on retying and straightening his tie.

"What's wrong with loving someone?" she asked, "Even if it's not what you expected…"

Tommy whipped around and shouted, "I don't need anyone! I've done just fine by myself for twenty years! I've been taking care of myself and brother since I was thirteen and we were both on the streets! And look what I've made of myself! Look what I've made of everyone around me!" he took a breath, "You're an accessory, Maggie. And I'm not giving this up and tying myself down…for you."

Maggie trembled. She was angry and devastated, and then more angry because of how devastated she was. She'd never been this wounded, and she was furious with herself for letting her feelings so viciously betray her. Still, she couldn't hate him.

There was a long, very quiet moment. When he said nothing else yet made no move to leave, she stepped into him again. She reached up and ran her hand around his neck and into his hair. When he didn't stop her, she pulled him in and kissed him one more time.

And for a long time, he didn't pull away. Maggie thought maybe he'd changed his mind, when he suddenly, violently, shoved her away. She stumbled backward, shocked. She wanted to cry. But, then, she saw it. Tommy looked at her, and she saw in his eyes that he'd finally felt it, too. He was shaken and his usual arrogance was replaced by a look of fear as he stared at her.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away. Pulling himself up to his full height, he started towards the door. Without looking back, he threw out, "Stay the night, if you want. I ain't coming back."

The door shut, and Maggie threw his expensive liquor across the room, watching it shatter with very little satisfaction.


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's another installment. If anyone is reading this, I would love to hear from you, but either way, this is something I'm enjoying writing for myself. It won't be terribly long, but it has a couple more chapters. Enjoy. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

It was another four months before she saw him again. Still, Maggie didn't expect Frankie and the group to return so quickly, but she knew the theaters of Los Vegas provided one of their greatest money-making opportunities. It made sense, in the same way that it was inevitable that each return engagement was accompanied by more and more press, and more and more chaos.

The group had a new album out, released just in time for the Christmas holiday, and the casino was bustling with vacationers of every age and financial bracket. Maggie was glad for the chaos. She was content to lose herself in the distraction of it all, to keep herself from looking at him. She focused on her work, keeping to herself or flirting with the abundance of men. Part of her hoped he noticed. Part of her hoped he would take one look at her and realize what he'd walked away from. After two days, however, Maggie realized that quite the opposite was taking place.

Tommy didn't give her so much as a passing glance. He went on stage and performed, and then joined the high rollers in a private room off the main floor. She caught the sound of his voice from across the room a few times, hearing his easy laughter or his commanding tone. Once, she stopped and just stared at him. He moved with grace and swagger, but he never looked her way. It was as though she'd stopped existing, as though her usefulness had ended, and therefore she was simply irrelevant to him.

Maggie was hurt, but she didn't realize the extent of that hurt until the next evening. It was the group's last performance, and the house was packed. After a full show and several encores, they finally left the stage. Standing in the back of house, waiting to clean the tables, Maggie watched them go.

A voice in her ear startled her, saying with a giggle, "I heard Maria's going upstairs with one of them tonight…and Barbara, too."

Maggie jerked her head around to see Holly standing next to her. A tiny blonde, Holly was known for keeping her gossip accurate and delivering it quickly. Maggie glanced around and didn't see either Maria or Barb in the room.

She snorted, "Maybe that's just what they want everyone to think."

"No," Holly argued, "I heard him asking them. The cute one…Tommy. He flashed them a wad of money."

Maggie grit her teeth, wishing desperately that she could rid herself of the heavy lump that had dropped into her stomach. To cover her reaction, she stated, "You know that's how it works here. Enough money buys you whatever you want. What they do isn't my concern."

Holly gave her a long look and then said, "I guess we thought you were the only one good enough for him here. Guess he needed to move onto to younger…opportunities."

The implication was not lost on Maggie, and her stomach turned. Setting down her empty tray and wash cloth, she stormed from the room. She kept walking, brushing past anyone in her path, until she was in one of the tiny dressing rooms off the stage. These rooms were not used for the highly-paid, touring acts, but were reserved for the dancers and the local musicians who paid for couple hours to perform on off nights. Collapsing into a chair, Maggie threw a couple of combs and brushes half-heartedly across the room. Then she sat there, contemplating whether or not she could simply stay in this room forever.

After a long time, when she was sure everyone was gone and she was running the risk of being locked in the building, Maggie heard steps. They reached the doorway and stopped, and a silver-haired woman slipped into the room.

Maggie looked up, and then breathed a sigh, saying, "Rosalie."

Rosalie put her hands on her hips, with her crimson nails balled into fists. She looked Maggie over, knowing something was wrong. Then she asked, "Why weren't you out there working the floor, Maggie?"

Maggie didn't answer right away. She knew that Rosalie was not chastising her as strongly as it sounded. Rosalie was in charge of all the girls in the casino. Her job was somewhere between manager and mother and agent. She had been one of 'the girls' herself, some years ago, and Maggie could see that Rosalie had once been beautiful. Her silver hair must've once been black and her eyes were wide and dramatic. Now, though, they were softened by lines and her skin was weathered just enough to make her look more regal than gorgeous. Still, she was loyal to the casino. She did everything from cleaning and prepping, to scheduling and counseling her girls. She even helped maintain the costumes for the ones who performed. She would often tell stories of her days on the stage, speaking of being draped across the piano in a red dress, singing jazz. Maggie found her both intimidating and fascinating, and she knew she couldn't hide from Rosalie.

Finally sitting, Rosalie softened, "What is it child?"

Maggie took a breath and said, "It's silly. Stupid even."

"I'm sure it can't be the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Rosalie quipped.

Maggie tried to smile. She struggled, and then said, "There's nothing you can do about, Rosalie. It's one of them…one of Frankie Valli's boys."

Rosalie furrowed her brow and asked, "Did one of 'em hurt you? You know, we overlook a lot here, but there's certain places where I draw the line…"

Maggie shook her head.

"Then…what?"

Maggie took a breath and admitted, "I've fallen for one of them. Badly."

Rosalie studied her eyes and asked, "Which one?"

"Tommy," Maggie answered very quietly.

Rosalie looked at her from some time, and then carefully stated, "Maggie, there's no hope for that one, I'm afraid. Your heart's got it very wrong this time."

"I know," Maggie whispered, "I never intended to let this happen. I know it makes no sense."

"And you know the kind of people who come here. Especially the performers," Rosalie added, "You have to keep your heart out of it, at least until you're ready to give this up."

Maggie nodded again.

Rosalie looked her over again, and then said, "He's not worth your time, Maggie. You don't need him. You deserve better. You need to tell yourself that, over and over, until it becomes true. Say it out loud, as often as you can, and you will eventually feel it. There's power in words, Maggie."

Meeting Rosalie's eyes, Maggie knew that much was true.

_Tommy DeVito doesn't fall in love._

The words had been burned into her mind and had replayed themselves over and over again for four months. It wasn't a question. There was no room for discussion. Whether he'd ever had a heart, had ever let himself feel, Maggie didn't know. But she knew where he stood now.

Rosalie was right. One day at a time, a few words at a time, she would make him not matter. She wouldn't get angry or sad, she would simply wipe him out of her life.

"I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care," she said softly.

"There you go," Rosalie smiled.

_I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care._

It would become her mantra. Her resolution. One day, one phrase at a time. _I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care._


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this took me a bit...I'm trying to crank out some updates this week. :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Thirteen months.

No whisper of his name. No return engagement. No contact. Nothing.

He ceased to exist in Maggie's life, and she felt successfully indifferent about it. He was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

_I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care._

Still, there were those that didn't want to let her forget.

Knowing something of hers and Tommy's history, Holly leaned over one late December afternoon while they were preparing for the dinner rush, and stated, "He's in town, you know. For good, this time."

Maggie turned slowly and raised an eyebrow.

Smirking, Holly said, "Tommy. He's left the group. Word is he's been 'persuaded' to make his home here."

Maggie shook her head, "You spend too much time reading those gossip rags."

"It's not gossip if it's true," Holly tossed out.

"Even if that's true, what is that supposed to mean to me?" Maggie asked flatly.

Holly shrugged, "I don't know. Just thought you might have yourself a permanent money-making opportunity, if you know what I mean."

Maggie looked into Holly's eyes, and she knew the little blonde was hoping there was more to it. Holly wanted a story. She was perceptive and nosy, a bad combination, but she had a tendency to get things right. If she could translate that into something other than spreading gossip, it might be a useful trait.

Tossing her hair, Maggie said, "I've got plenty of other _opportunities_."

And she walked away, leaving Holly to wonder.

Not even a week later, however, Holly's gossip proved to be annoyingly accurate.

Word spread through the casino that Tommy's group had bought him out, or he had walked away. It didn't seem to matter what exactly had transpired. The fact that one of hottest groups of the decade seemed to be breaking up was the real story. Now, Tommy was apparently working his way through the clubs and casinos, looking for work as a single act. Even Maggie knew most of the star power from his group had come from Frankie, and that the writing talent lay with Bob. Tommy wasn't much more on his own than an average lounge singer. Still, he attracted a certain crowd just for the novelty of who he was.

So she wasn't surprised when, that Tuesday night, the house band called Tommy up on stage after they'd played a set or two. The crowd was light, and it had been an easy night so far. In fact, Maggie had been hoping to get a number or two in later on if the atmosphere allowed. Now, as was his way, Tommy was taking from her.

_I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care._

She repeated it again, reminding herself.

Maggie focused on the tables, on the customers, as he began to sing. He did a couple of early hits from his repertoire, before Frankie had taken the lead, and Maggie had to admit that he had a good voice. It was a strong, clear baritone that had a certain richness that was compelling. He wasn't a four-octave tenor, like Frankie, but he was good. She would give him that much. He was good at his craft.

When he started the third number, however, something in the song choice made Maggie stop. She set her tray of empty glasses on the bar and turned toward the stage for the first time. She rolled the lyrics over in her mind, watching him.

_Every day as I grow older  
>The nights are getting colder<br>Some day the sun will shine on me  
>Money, I don't have any<br>I'm down to my last penny  
>But, darling, don't cry over me…<em>

It was the group's song, she knew. Tommy didn't write music. The world knew that. It was a pop song, meant to sound catchy and attract young girls. Still, the band had slowed the tempo some, and the words sounded more haunted in Tommy's deeper range.

Maggie wasn't sure how long she'd been staring, but it was just long enough. He finally met her eyes from the stage and held her gaze. He kept singing, kept performing, but suddenly she knew he was singing to her. Disgusted, Maggie turned on her heel and left the room.

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><p>The following Sunday evening was no different. The crowd was a little thicker, as some had heard that a former member of the Four Seasons would be doing a solo set, but it was still a relaxed evening. Tommy took the stage after the dinner hour and did a few covers of some well-known ballads. Then, in what seemed to be a gesture to please the fans, he did his rendition of another Four Seasons hit. And just like the time before, as soon as Maggie met his eyes, he refused to look away.<p>

_I used to love to make you cry  
>It made me feel like a man inside<br>But if I'd been a man in reality  
>You'd still be here, babe, lovin' me<br>_

It was as song everyone knew well. It was played across the airwaves on stations all over the country. It was rather upbeat, and most listeners probably never paid much attention to the specifics of the words. But Maggie did.

_Now the nights are long and lonely  
>And I'm not too strong babe, I just miss you so<br>And you're too proud, won't give in  
>But when I think about all I could win<em>

_I've been working my way back to you babe…  
><em>

Maggie gave him a long, hard look, and then went back to work. Just as she turned around to get a clean cloth, she ran straight into Holly.

Holly, who had been standing behind her the whole time, stated, "I think he's singing to you, Mag."

"No," Maggie stated defiantly, "he is not."

With that, she went back to work.

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><p>This went on for about three weeks, much to Maggie's dismay. She had no idea what kind of game he was playing, but Tommy was playing with her. She thought maybe he'd lost some of his appeal with the women, having been somewhat disenfranchised. She wondered if perhaps he thought he could get things back the way they were, to having her at his whim, no strings attached. She wondered how desperate he must be, to think she would be interested. There was no amount of money that would make her give in to him this time, though. His success or failure was not her problem.<p>

On the next Thursday night, just after the Christmas holidays, Maggie had arranged to take the night off. She had worked a slow day shift filled with senior citizens who were kind of enough, but generally tipped poorly. She was tired, and was looking forward to a long bath and freshly washed hair. As she expected, Tommy was back for the dinner crowd, making her even gladder to have chosen this night to be off.

Maggie had shed her apron, retrieved her bag from the dressing room, and was on her way out the door when she realized she'd left her tips in her apron. Cursing herself for being so careless, she made her way back through the theater to the waitress station between the theater and the casino floor. She was pocketing her money, relieved, when she realized a few of the other girls were staring at her.

Looking Maria in the eye, she asked, "What?"

Of course, Holly spoke up instead, "We're just wondering what song he's going to sing for you tonight."

Maggie's expression darkened and she spat, "They all sing love songs, Holly. Everyone. All the time. It has nothing to do with me. Maybe he's singing to Maria."

"I wish he was still singing to me," Maria chuckled, and her implication was not lost on the others.

Maggie gave her a withering look.

When Tommy started to sing, Holly, Maria and Barbara paused for a moment, standing just in front of the bar in full view of the stage. Maggie started to go, but a sort of sick curiosity stopped her. Against her better judgement, she stepped up next to her coworkers. She offset herself by a few feet, not exactly sure what she was hoping to accomplish, but feeling she needed an answer to a question she was refusing to ask.

Tommy's first song that night was not an original to him or his former group. He was covering a Temptations hit called _Earth Angel_, and Maggie had to admit that it suited his voice wonderfully. It was just in his range, and he sounded like a lead, for a moment. Maggie listened, and watched him scan the crowd. And inevitably, his eyes found her. He picked her out of the line of attractive waitresses and held her gaze, singing:

_Oh earth, earth angel, earth angel  
>Please be mine<br>My darling dear, love you all the time  
>I'm just a fool, fool, a fool in love with you<em>

After a few stanzas, she heard the other girls giggling. She knew what they were saying, and Maggie was suddenly, violently angry. Hitching her bag up on her shoulder, she started out of the theater again. She wanted to be far away, to be enjoying her bath and not having her feelings toyed with in front of her colleagues.

_He has no right to manipulate you. He's selfish and obnoxious and just trying to get attention. Let someone else give it to him._

Maggie fumed all the way to the front door and then stopped. Suddenly and somewhat unexpectedly, she had a revelation. She could run, but Tommy probably just enjoyed the chase. The cat-and-mouse nature of this game probably gave him a cheap thrill, and she did not want to continue to be the mouse. She wanted him to very clearly understand where she stood, and an idea formed.

Turning slowly around, Maggie made her way to the theater. Setting her bag down behind the counter, she weaved her way through the tables to the stage. Tommy was just finishing his number, and he couldn't help but see her as she motioned toward the keyboardist. Manny was also in charge of the house band, and he knew what she wanted. Maggie wanted to sing.

When Tommy's number was over, the crowd applauded and Manny stepped away from the keyboard for a moment. Taking the microphone, he stated, "And now, let's break things up a little with something from one of our own…Maggie DeGrasso."

Maggie smiled a sultry smile and took just a moment to whisper to Manny what she wanted to sing. He gave her a look of surprise, but then nodded his consent. Taking the microphone, Maggie watched Tommy out of the corner of her eye. He took seat in the front row of tables and studied his hands, as though he sensed something important was coming. Watching him, Maggie suddenly felt a rush of power. The tables were so wonderfully turned and it was her chance to hurt him, or at least wound his pride. She was entirely convinced that Tommy DeVito was calloused beyond the point of any real hurt. Still, she could slam the door in his face, metaphorically at least.

As the band began to play, Maggie gave her best, most seductive pout. Then, she sang.

_I cried for you _

_Now cry for me_

_No, no, I don't love you anymore_

_Cry for me_

Maggie was wholly proud of her song choice. She knew a lot of the Season's hits, and she found a very dark thrill in chastising Tommy with one of his own songs. So she continued.

_Well, you had your fun_

_With someone knew_

_Now you want me to take you back_

_We're all through_

_Cuz now I'm leaving_

_No, no make believin'_

_You made a fool of me_

_So now I'm leaving you_

Maggie could still see Tommy to her right. She wouldn't look right at him, but she could see his reaction. He kept his head down, still studying his hands. Finally, he looked up and met her eyes. Raising her chin confidently, Maggie held his gaze and sang:

_Well you, _

_Knew it from the start_

_Someday you'd break my heart_

_Now we're all through_

_So cry_

_Cry for me_

_Just the way I cried for you_

_Just the way I cried for you_

_So go on and cry, cry for me_

When Maggie finished, the crowd gave her a very satisfying applause. Manny winked at her, and she took a moment to kiss him on the cheek before leaving the stage. Then, she intentionally exited stage right. Crossing directly in front of Tommy's table, she breezed by him without so much as a glance.

Continuing back through the theater, Maggie wound her way through the tables, accepting the occasional compliment. Back at the counter, she retrieved her bag and started to leave once again. As she walked away, Holly stopped her.

With a glisten in her eyes, Holly stated, "That was harsh."

Maggie shrugged, "I made my point. I'm not playing games. Now, I have to go home and wash my hair."

Leaving Holly to wonder and, most certainly, to gossip, Maggie breezed from the theater feeling quite satisfied.

* * *

><p>Word of what Maggie had done eventually found its way back to Rosalie. The next afternoon, at the start of Maggie's shift, Rosalie met her in the still-dark theater. Cocking her head and studying Maggie, she said, "So, you made your point last night?"<p>

Maggie sighed, "Rosalie, I hope so. And I would very much like to let it go and move on."

Rosalie became more serious, "All right. I just wanted to make sure you did it for you, and not for him. You don't owe him a performance, or anything. Don't play the game."

Maggie smiled a little, "I'm not. That was me turning over my hand, winning, and walking away."

Rosalie chuckled.

"Also," Maggie added, "I'm not working the theater floor if he's here. I'll take the casino."

Rosalie, who understood, did not argue.

And Maggie was true to her word. For the next two weeks, she promptly left the room if Tommy showed up to sing. She tended to the casino patrons, enjoying their banter and the generous tips. She felt more at ease than she had since Christmas, and Maggie was proud of herself.

Then, one Monday in early January, it snowed. The white powder barely accumulated on the warm ground, but it was captivating nonetheless. It was such an extremely rare occurrence that the hotel patrons were too fascinated by the white dusting outside to spend their time indoors. Therefore, the casino was quiet and very few people made their way into the theater that night. The band decided the wrap up early after playing several slow, easy sets. Maggie helped clean up the barely-used tables and then went to look for tips in the casino. Rosalie, however, seeing the abundance of help and the lack of customers, told her to go home.

"You've worked hard this week. I can use this night to train a couple of the new girls. Get some rest," Rosalie ordered lightly.

Maggie gave her an appreciative smile and didn't argue. She made her way through the back hallways to get her bags from where she kept them in the dressing room. Then, to keep from going back out the dark rear exit of the theater, she wound back through the hallways to the stage. As she got closer, she remembered that the house would be dark and started to reconsider her route. She didn't relish the idea of stumbling over tables and chairs in the dark. As she got closer to the stage, however, she saw a faint beam of light.

_The ghostlight,_ she thought to herself.

It was an old theater tradition, to keep one light burning to ward off ghosts. As she crossed between the heavy curtains at the side of the stage, Maggie also realized she was not alone. In the dim light, she could make out a figure sitting on the piano bench. It took her a moment to realize it was him.

Tommy was bent over his guitar, with his back to her. His hair was a little more disheveled than usual, and he had stripped down to just a sleeveless white t-shirt, his well-pressed pants, and shiny shoes. He looked half wealthy traveler, half disheveled vagabond. There was an untouched cigar smoldering in an ashtray on the piano, and an equally untouched drink making rings on the shiny surface. Maggie told herself to go, wanting to turn around quietly before he heard her, but his voice stopped her.

Tommy was strumming the guitar and singing softly to himself. Without the help of a band, he sounded hollow and lonely. Maggie listened in spite of herself as he sang what was usually a pop song in a slow, lilting tempo.

_I need you to understand  
>That I tried so hard to be a man<br>The kind of man you'd want in the end  
>Only then can I begin to live again<em>

Maggie gripped her bag tight, finding herself falling back on the words she hadn't needed in some time:

_I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care._

Lost in himself, Tommy kept on:

_An empty shell, of used to be_  
><em>Shadow of my life is hangin' over me<em>  
><em>Broken man, that I don't know<em>  
><em>Don't even stand a devil's chance to win my soul<em>

Maggie felt something hitch within her then. She tried to walk away, but very slowly found herself moving towards him. There was something in that last stanza that was so hopeless, it hurt.

Tommy didn't hear her, as he kept wordlessly strumming the guitar.

Maggie kept walking until she was close enough to touch him.

The moment felt frozen, as though they were suspended in glass. The air was heavy and thick with so many things, and part of Maggie wanted to run before he could realize she'd seen him. She was too close, though. She couldn't turn away without him hearing her now.

Maggie drew close enough that she could smell him. His scent was the same, a mix of wildness and polished class. She could smell the cigar smoke and the liquor. She could see the strength in his broad shoulders and well-shaped arms. She studied his dark hair, how it curled a little just at his neck. She noted how his skin was weathered and slightly bronzed, like a true Italian. On his right shoulder was a tattoo Maggie had never paid much attention to before. He was a man in every way. He was rugged and strong and uncivilized. He was silk ties, crisp shirts, and easy swagger. He was distant, detached, and selfish. He was larger than life, and he was human. And he was a musician, using his guitar to say things Maggie realized he couldn't voice.

Just then, Tommy stopped playing for a moment. Pulling out a handkerchief, he rubbed his eyes, and then his face. To anyone else, it would have appeared that he was just wiping away the sweat from performance. But there were no bright lights to make that necessary here. Rocked to her core, Maggie realized what he was doing. He was crying. Too proud to let the tears really fall, he was crying in his own way. Just as she'd demanded in her song, he was crying for her.

Before she completely registered what she was doing, she reached out and placed one hand on his bare arm. Warmth flooded her hand, and Maggie was shocked at the strength of her reaction. Both her heart and mind were in utter turmoil, and she was afraid to move. Tommy stopped strumming the guitar. After a long moment, he turned his head just enough to meet her eyes.

_Damn those eyes._

Maggie felt all of her anger and resolve crumbling. She held his gaze for a long time, with no idea what to say. Eventually, Tommy tore his eyes away from her and slowly went back to strumming the guitar. Maggie stood there, listening, captivated, and then slowly found herself sitting down next to him. She wound her arm around his waist and just listened for a few minutes as Tommy expertly fingered the guitar. He was good. He was damn good. This was his talent, yet it was usually lost in the blend of his fantastically talented group.

After another minute or two, Maggie reached over and pulled the guitar from his hands. She stood and laid it on top of the piano, and he looked up at her. Then, moving on carnal instinct alone, she straddled his lap. When he met her eyes again, she kissed him. And for a moment, there was nothing else.

His arms held her, surrounding her in strength and warmth. His body was warm and her fingers found his hair. His lips were hungry and skilled. Maggie felt herself losing control and, suddenly, an ice-cold shot of reality streaked through her. She pulled back, angry with herself. Jumping backwards to her feet, she saw the confusion in his eyes. Maggie simply shook her head.

Then, afraid of what she might do or say, and feeling herself start to panic, she turned and ran.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

For the next week, Maggie focused solely on her work. The crowds were smaller and it was harder to keep herself busy, but she felt she must. Staying busy was the one way to get herself back under control. She hoped to pull some sense of calm out of the monotony of work.

She told herself over and over again that he still didn't matter to her. Whatever his demons, whatever his regrets or his troubles, she owed Tommy DeVito nothing. If she catered to his struggles, he would certainly just use her as a way to rebuild his ego. Maggie did not intend to be used again.

So she kept busy, and kept her distance. She gave herself some time to think, to get her emotions back under control. She let time remind her of how badly her feelings could betray her. And she was glad that Tommy didn't come back around.

By the following Thursday, Maggie was feeling in better spirits. She'd worked a good day-shift, making decent tips, and was ready to meet some friends for dinner. Gathering her things, she decided to head out the back entrance. Today, the sun was shining brightly through the brisk atmosphere and the back alley was generally harmless in daylight. Striding through the dark corridors of the theater, Maggie pushed her way through the back door and stopped for a moment, taking in the sunshine. Smiling to herself, she started to walk around the building and home. Then, she stumbled and nearly fell. Finally looking down to see what had tripped her, she realized it was a person.

_Tommy._

She immediately knew it was him, but his appearance made her inhale sharply. He was leaning up against the brick wall of the casino, looking as though he hadn't changed clothes since she'd last seen him. Now, however his clothes were dirty and torn, and his shirt was spattered with blood. His left arm was mottled with bruises, and there was another ugly series of bloody bruises along the left side of his face. He held one arm around his right side, as though there was more injury yet to be seen. His eyes had been closed, but he now opened them and looked dazedly up at Maggie.

Dropping her hand bag, she knelt down beside him and said urgently, "Tommy? What in the name of hell?"

He looked her over, as though he was just realizing it was her, and mumbled, "I tried to leave Vegas…"

Maggie looked him over again. She knew Tommy stayed in trouble. She knew he had money troubles and tended to run with dangerous people, and it frightened her. It was another good reason to walk away. Looking at him, she knew she _should_ walk away. But she didn't. She couldn't. Instead, she leaned over him and ran her hand over his face gently, trying to determine how badly he was bleeding.

He flinched and said, "Don't worry. If they'd wanted to kill me, they would have."

The statement didn't make Maggie feel any better. Drawing a deep breath, she asked, "Can you walk?"

Tommy looked at her as though he wasn't entirely convinced she was really present, trying to help him. His eyes searched hers. Wincing, he started to move.

Maggie put one arm underneath his, wrapping her arm around his chest and trying to take his larger, stronger frame onto hers. Using the wall to support himself, Tommy pulled himself to his feet. Maggie kept her arm around him, trying to avoid his right side, which he still seemed to be favoring. Then, very slowly, she led him back towards the building.

Hesitating, she asked, "Where are you staying?"

Tommy shrugged slightly and said, "Wherever I can. I'm on my feet now. I'll be fine."

He was pulling away from her, but she refused to let him.

"No," Maggie stated, "you're not staying on the street."

Noticing there was a duffel bag tossed nearby, she reached down and picked it up. She went to put her arm around him again, but Tommy pulled away. Deciding he was okay carrying his own weight, she took his arm instead.

He didn't say anything else as she led him back inside the casino. Leaving him in a well-worn chair backstage just briefly, she went to the front desk and got the most inexpensive room she could. Even being an employee, it was still an investment, because the casino didn't sell low-quality rooms. But Maggie paid the price. Then, she went back to Tommy and led him upstairs to a room in the far corner of the fifth floor.

He still said nothing as she led him inside the room and kicked the door shut behind her. He watched her quietly as she moved about, pulling the blankets back on the bed and looking for towels. Then, she returned with a warm, wet cloth. Sitting him down on the edge of the bed, she gently tried to clean the wound on his face.

Grimacing, she said, "I think I'm going to end up paying for bloody towels, too."

Tommy just looked at her, and she realized how close they were. He was studying her with those piercing, troubled eyes. Maggie refused to be deterred however. She swallowed over her feelings. She dabbed at his face a little more, and then sighed.

Pulling away, she stated, "You're a mess, Tommy. You need a shower, and probably a doctor's attention."

Struggling to his feet, Tommy answered, "I can take care of myself. You've helped enough."

Maggie looked at him and stated, "Stop being difficult. I'm here now, and I'm not the type of person to leave anyone bleeding in the street."

"You didn't leave me in the street," he went on, "So you can go now. I'll be fine. I don't need a babysitter."

Maggie looked back at him, studying his injuries, his dirty clothes, and then his face. She couldn't quite read his expression, and he would only hold her gaze for a moment or two. Finally, she'd had enough.

"Tommy, what do you want from me?" she demanded.

He met her eyes and answered, "Nothing."

Feeling more than a little wounded, considering what she'd seen and felt from him on the darkened stage the other day, she just stared at him.

"Come on," Maggie finally scoffed, "You show up here after more than a year and you start outright harassing me with your songs! It's blaringly obvious. You want something. So, what game are you playing? Am I just the only option you have left? Or are you hoping to get some of the other girls interested by using me?"

"No," Tommy snapped, and then rubbed his eyes, "Look, my head is fucked up right now. I went from playing for seven thousand people to playing just to have a place to stay. Maybe I don't know what I want right now."

"Well, I guess I should've realized that much. After all, when have you ever known what you wanted?"

Tommy looked away.

"Look," Maggie pointed her finger at him, "You need to figure out what it is you want, especially from me. And if you can't, then you need to go. Go and don't come back to this casino again. There's plenty of other places where you can sleep on the sidewalk."

Starting to walk away, she turned back and threw out, "Stay the night. I paid for the room, anyway."

She looked at him for another moment, and then turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>Maggie intended to meet her friends for dinner, still. She was running late, and she wouldn't have time to change, but she still wanted to meet them. So she headed out and went straight to the restaurant a few blocks over. She ordered a drink and nibbled on some bread, listening to her friends chat. She got some pasta and worked her way through it, not really tasting it or listening to the banter around her. She was detached and her mind was in an entirely different place, and she knew it. She was angry with herself for it, but she couldn't focus.<p>

Eventually, Maggie conceded to the fight within herself, and threw in the towel. She very literally threw her napkin down and excused herself. Leaving some money, she feigned not feeling well and left.

Ten minutes later and against all rational judgement, Maggie stood at the door to the room where she had left Tommy. She took a breath and went to knock, and then realized she still had the door key from earlier. She'd dropped it in her pocketbook and had never given to Tommy.

_Well then, I suppose if he left, he most likely didn't return, _she told herself.

Using the key, Maggie very quietly worked the lock and pushed open the door. Slipping inside, she let her eyes adjust to the dim light. Only one lamp was lit, in the far corner, and Maggie thought the room was empty, at first. Training her eyes over the bed, however, she noticed he was asleep.

Tommy was stretched out on the bed, on top of the sheets and blankets, wearing just a worn pair of pajama bottoms. His torso was bare, and Maggie watched his even breathing for a moment. Then, with another sigh, she looked around. He must have showered, based on how his things were scattered about.

Perhaps for lack of anything else to do, she set about straightening the room. She folded his discarded clothes, feeling certain that the bloodstains would not come out, and placed them in a chair. She put his duffel on the small table, and then moved to the bathroom. She hung up the towels straightened the shower curtain. Then, she stepped out of the bathroom and stared at him again. With a heavy sigh, she tried to decide what to do.

Maggie set down on the edge of the bed, feeling her crisp dress fold beneath her. She had been dressed for work in a full-skirted dress with a fitted bodice and a low neckline. Her shoes were shiny, with just enough heel to accent her legs. She looked good, but she wasn't dressed to spend the night away from home. Looking around the room, Maggie considered her choices. Then, she took a risk. Rummaging through Tommy's duffel, she found one of his sleeveless t-shirts. Carefully pulling her dress off, she then stripped off her shoes and pantyhose. With a little hesitation, she dropped her bra onto the chair as well, deciding the time for modesty with Tommy had passed. She pulled on his shirt and ran her fingers through her hair. Crossing back to the bed, she looked at Tommy for another moment. Then, before she could think about it any more, she slid into the bed next to him.

Curling next to him, she could feel the warmth of his body on hers. He didn't flinch, so she pulled a pillow close and laid her head next to his shoulder. Watching his breathing again, she was reassured by the even rhythm of his chest. Whatever injuries he had sustained, he didn't seem to be in any real danger. After another few minutes, Maggie very gingerly snaked her left arm around his stomach, watching to see if he would wake. When he did not, she let her eyes fall shut, refusing to think about the morning.

* * *

><p>When Maggie opened her eyes the next day, it took her a moment to register where she was. The curtains were drawn, so only a sliver of light cast a thin beam across the room. Still, she could tell it was morning. Raising herself up on her right elbow, she considered Tommy again. He still had not moved, hadn't given any indication of having woken. She was mildly concerned, but Maggie told herself he probably hadn't slept in a couple of days. She would give him a little longer before really worrying.<p>

Carefully pulling herself from the bed, Maggie went into the bathroom to freshen up. There, she noted the severe lack of toiletries. After taking care of the basics, she pulled the bathrobe from the back of the door around herself and grabbed her purse. Making a quick trip to the lobby, she slipped into the tiny store and picked up a few things and paid quickly. Fred, behind the counter, gave her a curious look, but said nothing.

Maggie headed back upstairs and let herself back into the room. With Tommy still sleeping, she padded into the bathroom and allowed herself a quick shower and a good teeth brushing. Feeling better, she slipped back into Tommy's soft t-shirt. It still smelled like him, which she couldn't help feeling good about. Going back to the bed, she slid down next to him again.

There wasn't much else for her to do but wait. Lying very close to him, she ran her eyes slowly over his body. His hair wasn't perfectly combed, but still had a dark sheen to it. His features were strong and handsome enough, as always, but the line of his brow gave his eyes a gentle quality that belied his obnoxious nature. There was a soft stubble across his face, and the line of his neck gave way to broad shoulders and well-defined arms. Maggie had never known that was specifically attractive to her before, until she'd met Tommy. His chest was defined, but had the softness of a real man, as opposed to the hard bodies plastered across so many magazines. He wasn't terribly tall, but he had just enough inches on her that they fit together nicely. Maggie flushed, as she realized how she'd chosen to think of it.

Then, she was drawn back to the motley-colored bruises he'd been given. They ran down the left side of his face and were scattered over his left arm. The worst of it, though, was across his right side. His ribcage was covered in dark, ugly splotches that hinted at least one or two broken ribs. Looking at it made Maggie hurt.

Feeling for him, she very gently brought her hand to the side of his face. Then, she ran her fingers over his neck and down his chest. Carefully trailing her hand over his right side, she wondered how they could know if he had broken bones. With no answer, she let her hand continue down the soft plane of his stomach. Stopping at the hem of his pants, she let her hand rest there for a moment. Then, she worked her fingers back up, following the midline of his chest where a soft line of hairs grew, and ending with her palm over his heart.

Feeling its steady beat for a minute or to, she whispered, "I suppose you do have a heart, Tommy DeVito."

After watching him for another few minutes, Maggie drew herself up further on her right arm. Carefully leaning over him, she placed a feather-light kiss on his lips, hoping he might sense her presence in his deep sleep. As she pulled away, moving to lay beside him again, his eyes fluttered and then opened.

Tommy blinked a few times, and then looked around. After a long, very quiet minute, he turned and looked at Maggie.

His eyes said more than he could have. He looked at her with confusion and disbelief and a deep longing that she knew probably scared him. So, being unable to think of any great words of consolation or explanation, Maggie kissed him.

Putting her hand gently behind his head, she softly pressed her lips to his. Feeling the heat of his chest against hers, she didn't want to pull away. Taking her lead from him, she went with it when he deepened the kiss and parted her lips. Being careful not to press too hard or lean into his injuries, Maggie melted into the kiss until her whole body was flushed and alert. With her chest still close to his, she could feel his heartbeat quicken. She pulled back then, knowing he was in no condition for any more than this.

Looking in her eyes again, Tommy asked, "Maggie…why are you still here?"

"Because I must be the biggest idiot in history of time," she said softly.

"I can't argue with that," Tommy mumbled.

Taking a deep breath, Maggie said, "I can't walk away, Tommy. It makes no sense. It might get me hurt again. I don't know. But I…"

She started to say 'I love you' again, but stopped herself, not sure if he was ready.

Not taking his eyes off of her, he stated, "You did a good thing. A thing I don't deserve."

That was good enough for Maggie, for the moment.

So she stayed. For two weeks, she helped him get up and down, and she brought him food. She watched old movies with him and did her best to mend his wounds. She worked her shifts and retrieved things from her apartment. Still, she came back to him. She was doing everything she swore she wouldn't. She was opening herself to the worst heartbreak of her life. But she couldn't walk away. She realized that the heart is a fickle thing, and it is terribly determined when it wants something.

Tommy talked a little about his split from the Seasons, about his carelessness with money and his falling out with his friends. He was no saint, admitting to his selfishness and outrageous spending.

"I was living the life," he explained some two weeks after Maggie had found him, "and who could've resisted it? Who doesn't want the freedom and the fame, the girls and the money? I thought I had a handle on it. And I was trying to run the group, to take care of things and keep it together. And then, Frankie didn't need me anymore…"

Sensing the relationship Tommy had with them, Maggie added, "They grew up, Tommy. They weren't going to need you telling them what to do forever."

"Yeah," Tommy ran a hand through his hair, "but I made them what they are. I held it together and kept pushing. I don't know how to let it go, you know?"

Lying next to him again, Maggie looked in his eyes and said, "But look what you built. Look at who you've all become, all because you had an idea. Maybe you didn't do everything right. I know you can be a real prick sometimes, Tommy. Maybe you have some apologies to make, but there's good left in you."

He looked up at her then, and pulled her in for a kiss. After a moment, Maggie let him pull her into his chest. She was wearing just a worn nightgown from home, and she felt her breasts pressed against his warm chest. For the first time in a long time, Tommy pulled her weight onto him, running his hands over her partially bare back and into her hair. She lost herself in it for a moment, having wanted him to her touch for so long. Then, she pulled away, afraid of hurting him.

"Tommy," she said breathily, shifting her weight.

Pulling her back, he said, "I'm fine. Or at least, I'm close enough to fine."

Feeling a rush low in her belly, Maggie looked at him for another moment before kissing him softly again. Then, very slowly she worked her kisses down his body. Trailing her mouth over his bare chest and stomach, she took her time. She ran her fingers over his arms, still finding they turned her on terribly. Running her hands over his hips, she slowly removed his drawstring pants. Then, she pulled his underwear away.

With practiced skill, Maggie ran her hands over his bare body and, before he could protest, took him into her mouth. Tommy inhaled sharply, and his whole body tensed. Maggie relished it, finding a new joy in making him feel good. It was more than the rush of knowing _she_ was good. It was less selfish. She wanted it to be good for him.

Working her magic, Maggie would've been content for it to be nothing more than this. She knew Tommy was still injured and in pain, so she was surprised when he pulled her back up towards him. Running his hands over her shoulders, he pulled her nightgown away. Then, he started to try to sit up and shift his weight.

Sensing his intention, Maggie said, "No."

Tommy started to argue, but Maggie pressed him gently back against the pillows. Laying herself across him, with one leg between his, she kissed him until her breath was coming in gasps. She twined her fingers with his and worked her mouth over his neck until he moaned softly. Finally, she straddled his hips and looked him in the eyes. Before he could argue, she took him inside herself.

Maggie watched his chest rise and fall for a moment, as his breath came hard and heavy. They had never been together like this, and she wasn't entirely sure he'd ever let this happen before. Tommy was the type to take control, to want to assert himself over his women in a position of dominance. She didn't know of him ever allowing himself to be taken. Now, he was at her mercy.

Pressing her forehead to his and kissing him softly, Maggie worked her body against his. She took her time, stopping to kiss him full on the mouth. She carefully wrapped her arms around his shoulders, keeping her weight off his ribs, and moved in a slow rhythm with her face in his neck. She sat up and ran her fingers over his chest and stomach, relishing the knowing of _him. _And finally, when she felt that he was completely at the mercy of her and his feelings, she let her movements intensify.

By then, it took just a moment to bring him to climax. The feeling of him full and releasing within sent her over the edge of her own orgasm. Placing her hands on either side of his neck, Maggie closed her eyes and gave in. For a long time, she trembled and focused on the aching rhythm deep in her pelvis. It was deeper, stronger, more personal than she ever remembered it being. Finally, when she was spent, she took a ragged breath and looked at him.

Tommy was staring up at her, his eyes a maelstrom of things. His chest was rising and falling quickly, and he winced a little from the effort. Maggie kissed him softly, feeling the sheen of sweat between them.

Softly he said, "It's never been like that. You've been holding out of me."

Maggie kissed him again and said, "No I haven't. Tommy, you've fucked a lot of girls…but you've never made love."

Tommy just looked at her.

Maggie took a breath, "And I'm not sure that I have either."

There was a quiet moment, then. Maggie pulled away just enough to lie next to him, feeling his heartbeat once again.

After a minute, Tommy stated, "I've never wanted to settle down. I've never wanted to stay in one place…before. I've never felt…"

Maggie looked in his eyes again. She let him stumble over his words for another minute before she stopped him with a kiss. Then, she held his gaze and said, "Tommy…I love you too."

And he didn't argue.


End file.
